Fool's Paradise
by Katkid
Summary: No matter how bad things seem, they could always be worse. Ryou Bakura learns that the hard way when an accident gives him a chilling glimpse of what could have been.
1. Hell

Chapter One (Hell)

Hello. My name is Ryou Bakura. I am a student at Domino High School. And I am about to die.

You see, right now, I'm falling at a very alarming rate. I have just fallen from the top of a very high overpass. I'm guessing that I have about five seconds before I get to say a painful hello to the hard ground.

How can I be so calm about all of this? Well, truth be told, I'm not. I am screaming like an exceptional coward. Jounouchi might be screaming, too. I can't tell. It's difficult to hear anything over my own screams and the sound of the wind in my ears. I wonder if it will hurt too badly to die. Oh, look. The ground is a lot closer already. I think I might only have four seconds left now.

I suppose I should back up a bit and explain how I got into this distressing situation. Even before I ended up in this predicament, I was not having a pleasant day. That's nothing out of the ordinary for me. When you spend most of your days with a murderous spirit whispering in the back of your head and regularly taking over your consciousness, you're bound to have a few bad days here and there. It's just that this day has been exceptionally unpleasant.

First, I slept through my alarm. By the time I woke up I was so late I had to choose between taking a shower or eating breakfast before making a mad dash to school. I chose to take a shower and discovered a raggedy line of thin scratches on my leg that I was absolutely positive had not been there when I went to sleep the night before. I couldn't tell whether they were cat scratches or whether they had come from some sort of prickly bush. It didn't matter. Either way, it was an almost sure-fire indication that the above-mentioned murderous spirit had decided to take my body for a joyride sometime during the night. (Not that sort of joyride. I may not have the power to read minds, but I'm fairly certain I can guess what you were thinking. Do be considerate enough to keep your mind out of the gutter, please.)

As I buttoned my school uniform over the unwieldy Ring that housed the spirit, I briefly considered turning on the television to check and see if he had done anything too serious. Then I decided not to waste the time. There was no blood under my fingernails, and I decided that was evidence enough he had not killed anything or anybody. I did not even consider taking the Ring off. I'd already learned that no matter how many times I tried to get rid of the foul thing, it always managed to reappear around my neck anyways.

I threw all of my school things into my bag and started my sprint towards school. This may or may not come as a surprise to you, but I can run fast when the occasion calls for it. I can even outrun some of the track team's sprinters if I need to, but nobody would ever dream of asking me to join the team because I am also an astonishing klutz. I can count the number of days I've managed to avoid slipping, tripping, or generally causing myself stupid, unnecessary harm on one hand. So when my shoelace broke, it was only natural that I tripped over it.

Luckily, I managed to avoid tearing any holes in my school uniform. Unluckily, I didn't manage to avoid scraping the skin off my palms. I ended up taking a detour to the bathroom to wash the dirt out of the wounds once I reached school, which ended up making me late anyways.

Even though I tried to sneak into the classroom as quietly as possible, the teacher noticed and she was not happy. I hunched my shoulders against her scolding and offered a meek apology before slinking to my seat.

A few people giggled at my torment as I walked past them. Then I looked down and realized that what they were giggling about was a bit of toilet paper that was stuck to my shoe. I made it to my desk and pulled the tissue off my shoe. Then I wondered what on earth to do with it now that I was already in my seat. The teacher was in the middle of reading the announcements for the day and I knew that she would be angry if I disturbed the class again, even if it was just to throw away some toilet tissue. I decided not to risk the teacher's wrath and shoved it into my desk.

From a desk a few rows to the right, Anzu Mazaki was looking at me with concerned eyes. I had a feeling that all of my other friends were doing the same. They all knew what it usually meant when I arrived to school late. I offered her a small smile to let her know that I was all right, and that I was reasonably sure the spirit hadn't done anything too damaging.

We had a history test which I had not studied for as soon as the teacher finished reading the bulletin. I didn't even remember hearing about the test at all. As I wrote my name at the top of the answer sheet, I wondered whether the spirit had something to do with that.

Even though I didn't study for it, the test was fairly easy. The only person who finished it quicker than me was Seto Kaiba. I know this because as soon as he was finished with it, he took out his laptop and started typing on it, probably to check up on his company's stocks. The clicking was so conspicuous in the otherwise silent room it was impossible to tune it out. I shook my head and thought, _Only Seto Kaiba. _If it had been any other student that laptop would have been confiscated before it had even made it past its startup cycle.

My stomach started grumbling against my decision to skip breakfast when we reached the tail-end of the class. It was so loud it was impossible to miss, even with the constant click of Kaiba's keyboard. I could feel people glancing up from their test pages to look at me and heard a couple of giggles from the same kids who had laughed at the toilet paper on my shoe. A girl sitting behind me jabbed me in the back to get my attention and slipped a package of crackers to me under her desk. I took the package and put it in my desk next to the wad of toilet paper, absolutely mortified.

By the time lunch came around I was so hungry I could barely concentrate on anything else. When I reached the cafeteria, I realized that I had managed to forget to bring any lunch money with me. My friends all gave me pitying looks as I munched away at the pathetically small bag of crackers the girl had given me in history class.

"Do you want to share my lunch?" Anzu asked.

I considered for a moment before giving an answer. Anzu Mazaki is a strong-willed but kind girl, and a wonderful friend. However, she also has a well-deserved reputation for being a terrible cook, and it looked as though she had brought her lunch with her instead of buying one from the school. I finally decided it was better to chance the girl's dicey cooking skills than to suffer through the rest of the day.

As I took the first bite, I thanked my lucky stars that she had decided to make rice balls. It's almost impossible to ruin rice balls. I didn't detect anything that tasted dangerous, but I still refused when she offered me another because I felt bad for taking away her food. Even though I tried to make it clear that I didn't want to take anybody else's food, I somehow ended up with an apple from Yugi and a handful of French fries from Jounouchi and Honda. I resolved to bake them all a batch of cookies later that night to make up for it.

As I nibbled at the last of the French fries, Jounouchi said, "Hey, Bakura, are we still on for tutoring today?"

"Oh; it's Friday, isn't it?" I answered. I had offered to tutor Jounouchi less than two weeks before when he'd been threatened with being held back a year if his test scores did not show dramatic improvement. I was embarrassed to realize that up until that moment I had completely forgotten not only about the tutoring appointment, but also what day it was.

"Yeah; we're still cool, right?"

"Yes, of course."

He grinned. "Thanks, man."

"So, Jounouchi, you going to beat Yugi on the next test?" Honda asked.

"Who knows? Maybe I will!"

"I don't know Jounouchi," Anzu laughed. "Yugi studied with me all last week. I wouldn't be surprised if he got one of the top five highest scores!"

"Well I don't know about that," Yugi murmured.

"Sure you will, Yug," Jounouchi answered. "You'll be number four or five, and I'll be number three!"

Honda raised an eyebrow. "Three? Why three?"

"Because nobody ever beats moneybags Kaiba and Bakura here is always number two. Ain't that right, Bakura?"

"It's not that big of a deal, really," I said.

"Aw, don't be modest, man! You're like some kind of genius or something."

I shrugged, staring wistfully at the empty bag of crackers and the apple core on the table in front of me. In spite of my friends' generous donations, I wasn't anywhere near feeling full and I spent most of the rest of the lunch period trying not to think about how hungry I was.

I'd like to say that the second half of the school day went better than the first, but I prefer not to lie if I can help it. It's not that I'm a bad liar—quite the opposite, really. Ever since the spirit came along, I've gotten so good at it I scare myself. ("Are you feeling all right, Bakura?" _Smash the puzzle and throttle him with that ridiculous chain he keeps it on, landlord. It'll be fun. _"Oh, I'm fine, Yugi. I'm just a bit tired. I was up late—"_because I discovered a blood-encrusted Millennium Eye under my pillow last night and I have absolutely no idea how it got there but I'm sure I could make a very good guess _"—working on the essay that's due tomorrow." And so on.)

It was the last class of the day. The sun was out in full force and it was so warm it was hard to believe that it was only April. Some of the other students in the class had folded their old pages of notes into fans for a bit of relief from the sweltering heat. Between the heat and the lack of rest my body had received the night before, I found myself having a hard time keeping my eyes open.

I didn't realize I was dreaming until I heard Amane's voice singing the national anthem. She'd learned it in her music class earlier that day and she was so excited to show our mother she'd started singing as soon as we'd gotten into the car.

She was almost halfway through when she stopped to poke my arm and say, "Come on, big brother, sing it with me. You learned it last year, didn't you?"

Truth be told, I would have preferred to listen rather than sing. Even at eight years old, I knew that she was a much better singer than I was. There was something in her voice that drew you to it and made you want to listen. No matter how much I tried to imitate that quality, all I was able to produce was a childish whine that didn't seem to suit something as solemn as the national anthem. The look on her face—lip jutted out on the edge of a pout—prompted me to open my mouth and stumble through it anyways.

The car stopped at a red light as we reached the end of the song, she singing the final notes with confident energy and me barely mumbling them out at all. Our mother didn't turn around, but I could see her looking back at us in the rearview mirror with smiling eyes. "That was great, kids," she said.

A tight coil of fear began to gnaw at the pit of my stomach. I knew what was coming next, although I never understood why. It hadn't happened this way in real life. We'd been much older in real life. I'd been studying for my high school entrance exams, and she'd established herself as the best soprano in the middle school choir. More importantly, I hadn't been there when it happened. The dream never seemed to take any of this into consideration.

Beside me, Amane giggled and clapped her hands at the compliment. "Let's sing it again! And sing louder this time, like I do."

I wanted to tell them both to get out of the car _right now, _but when I opened my mouth all that came out was the first line of the national anthem. The light turned green while I struggled to choke out a warning around the melody that was pouring from my lips. The car started forward.

Then—_WHAM! _The force of the semi truck was enough to send our minivan careening into a drunken spin on two wheels. I caught a fleeting glimpse of the area it had hit as we flew through the air—a twisted mess of metal and broken glass where the driver's seat used to be.

There was a horrible noise which might have been the scream of twisting metal. Or maybe it was Amane who was screaming. _Amane! _I tried to turn my head to look at her, but the impact had snapped my head around to look in the opposite direction—_Out the window, _I thought; _It's always out the window—_and my neck didn't seem to want to turn that way. Instead I had an excellent view of the car that was about to smash into my side of the van.

The driver was a middle-aged lady who probably had a child or two of her own. She looked like the sort of woman who knew how to bake cookies without looking at a recipe and always remembered to cut the crusts off a kid's sandwiches. At least, that's how I imagine she would have looked if her face wasn't contorted into a look of outright terror.

The lady was frantically twisting the wheel in a desperate effort to avoid the pile of wreckage that used to be our car, but it was too little too late. I had a glimpse of the car's headlights looming into the window like a pair of glowing monster's eyes. Then there was a deafening crunch of metal on metal and I was being tossed around like a rag doll and I was sure Amane was screaming again—or was it me now?—and a sickening lurch told me that we were flipping, even though I couldn't see it because there was blood in my eyes and I was going to be sick; I was going to be sick; I was—

I woke up with a shriek that ensured all of my classmates saw me tumble out of my seat. I laid there in a disoriented heap with my heart racing and the crunch of metal still ringing in my ears. The voice of our teacher floated to my ears over the muffled laughter of my classmates and the not-so-muffled laughter of the spirit in the back of my head: "If you're going to react that poorly whenever I announce a test, I'll be sure to give you a warning next time, Bakura."

Between the continued cackling of the spirit and my own embarrassment, it was difficult to think of the proper thing to say in my predicament. I mumbled something I hoped was a passable apology to the teacher and got back into my seat.

The teacher seemed to be satisfied by my dazed apology, but I could feel my classmates' eyes on my back long after she went back to her lecture. I wished then that I sat at one of the desks in the back of the room. At least then they couldn't have stared at me without attracting the teacher's attention. Sitting at the front of the class, the only defense I had against their staring was to slouch in my seat and try to make myself as uninteresting as possible.

All I wanted to do by the time the final bell rang was sneak out of the room before anybody—friend or bully—said anything to me about the incident. But of course, that wasn't an option with Jounouchi's tutoring session to attend to, so I packed my things into my bag and crossed the crowded room to his desk with as much dignity as I could muster.

Yugi, Anzu, and Honda were already gathered around his desk, discussing plans to meet at the Game Shop later that afternoon. They invited me to join them. I politely refused. Despite my in-class nap, I was still worn out from whatever the spirit had made me do the night before and I didn't feel up to a whole afternoon of worrying that the spirit would decide that today was the day he would execute whatever horrible plan he'd been cooking up in the months after Duelist Kingdom. They didn't ask about the dream, although I could tell they wanted to. I was grateful. Instead we all parted ways with cheerful goodbyes—Anzu to her dance class, Yugi to the Game Shop, Honda to a meeting of the school beautification committee, and Jounouchi and me off to our tutoring session.

Neither of us gave the school library a second glance as we left the building. It had taken only one tutoring session for me to discover that being surrounded by that much book paste seemed to have a narcotic effect on Jounouchi. (He had managed to fall asleep before I'd even finished taking my books out of my bag.)

That was enough to convince both of us to find a different place to study. Since both of our homes were out of the question—his because his home life was a touchy subject, mine because God knows what the spirit would do to one of Yugi's friends in the privacy of my apartment—we decided on a nearby fast food restaurant. It was a popular place for students to gather after school, and the constant chatter was enough to ensure that Jounouchi would at least stay awake.

The fast food restaurant is only about a ten minute walk from our school campus if you stick to the main roads, but if you cut down a small side road you can avoid most of the crosswalks and get there in half the time. It's a narrow street that gets very little traffic and most of the scattered shops along it were shut down years ago. There were rumors that thugs liked to hang around that area because it was so deserted. Still, it was a popular shortcut with the students at our school, so I didn't even think twice before going that way once we were off school grounds.

We were crossing an overpass that marked the halfway point when there was a shout behind us: "Hey, you! _Jounouchi!_"

Jounouchi sucked a sharp breath of air in through his teeth with a quiet hiss but didn't turn around. Instead, he started walking just a little quicker, keeping his attention on the road ahead.

I followed his lead, keeping my eyes ahead and matching my pace to his. I hadn't been told much about what Jounouchi's life had been like before he met Yugi, but it was enough for me to know better than to question his motives for ignoring the person behind us.

A second voice yelled, "Hey, where're your manners? We're talking to _you,_ Jounouchi!"

Jounouchi sped his pace from a fast walk to a trot. I had to jog to keep up with him.

"Hmph. I guess the rumors are true then," the first voice sniffed. "Jounouchi's gone soft."

"Yeah," snorted voice number two. "Look at him going off on a date with his _boyfriend!"_

Jounouchi came to a dead halt at the remark. He had stiffened out of his usual slouch into something dangerous. His hands were balled into fists and his jaw was clenched so tight I could see the sinews in his neck stand out.

I was no happier with the insult than he was. My less than rugged features have made me the target of more than a couple of bullies, and that particular subject seemed to be an especially popular one. Still, I didn't want this to devolve into a physical fight, more for the thugs' sake than for ours. I didn't want to think about what the spirit would do to them if they managed to damage the body he possessed. "It's fine," I muttered. "Come on; let's go."

He gave me a sharp nod and we kept moving, neither of us looking back. Then, from right behind us, voice number one said, "What's the matter, Jounouchi? This little pansy got you whipped?"

There was a yank on my hair that snapped my head back and made me stumble back a step. It was painful, but the clipped yelp that jumped from my mouth was more from surprise than pain.

"Ha!" barked voice number two. "Even squeals like a girl. What a fag!"

I think that's where things passed the point of no return.

My eyes were still watering with the unexpected pain when Jounouchi yelled, "Hey; get off him, you son of a bitch! You got a problem with me you leave my friend out of it, ya hear?"

"Aw, ain't that sweet? He's defending his little bitch. How cute."

A hard shove from behind knocked me face first into the ground. I heard Jounouchi shout something at the guy who had pushed me. Then there was a meaty _smack, _a grunt, shuffling feet….

I already knew what I was going to see when I sat up, but it didn't take away any of the shock. There were two guys. They were both wearing uniforms from a different high school, but they looked too old to be normal students. And they were _big—_both of them over six feet tall and built with thick, bullish muscle. Jounouchi was dodging most of their punches and taking advantage of any opening they left to throw in a few of his own. But there were two of them and one of him, and I could tell that even though he was a good fighter, he was at a disadvantage.

I didn't stop to think about what I was going to do when I got to my feet. I never considered the fact that one of those brutes probably weighed about twice as much as me, or that the only experience I had with fighting like this was limited to the occasional button-mashing video game. One second I was on the ground. The next second I was grabbing one of the thugs' arms to prevent him from smashing his fist into Jounouchi's face.

It worked—Jounouchi ducked out of the way in time, and even managed to hit the guy hard enough to get him to stagger back—but before he could get away, the other thug grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and landed a hit to his jaw from behind. That was all I saw before the guy I'd grabbed recovered enough to turn around and pound a fist into my chest.

It was a sloppy punch, and didn't hurt as much as it would have if I'd have taken it in the gut, but he was strong, and the force behind the hit sent me stumbling into the railing that bordered the edge of the overpass. I hit the old metal hard—and then there was nothing there to support me and I kept tipping back into empty space.

I flailed my arms to catch my balance, to grab onto another piece of the railing, to do anything to stop myself from falling. Jounouchi yelled my name, and I don't know how he managed to get away from the two thugs, but he was running towards me. He made a wild dive with his arms stretched in front of him to cover the last few feet between us. Our fingertips brushed, and then there was a terrible instant where I looked into his eyes and we both realized that it wasn't enough because even by the time he made another desperate grab, I was already too far away and freefalling.

I saw his lips moving as I tumbled out of reach, and I'm pretty sure he was screaming my name. I couldn't hear him—I was busy screaming myself.

And now here I am with only three seconds left before I hit the ground. I can't see Jounouchi anymore. I wonder if the thugs are still beating him up. I hear screaming, but I don't know if it's me or Jounouchi or the spirit.

Two seconds.

This is going to hurt so much I don't think I can—

…

…

…

_Dark. It was dark. Warm. Am I dead yet?_

_There was a voice:_

"Ryou. Ryou?"

"Ngh…." _It was a vaguely familiar voice. I knew it. Why did I know that voice?_

"Wake up, Ryou."

"Tired…." _It was a woman's voice. Anzu?_

"Come on, honey, you're going to be late for school."

"Mmm…." _Not Anzu…too mature for Anzu. That blonde-haired woman from Duelist Kingdom, then?_

"Amane's already left."

_Amane…AMANE?_

My eyes snapped open. I was in a bed—not a sterile, white hospital bed, but a real, soft bed with a green comforter and matching sheets. The room—_a bedroom, _I realized; _MY bedroom—_was filled with morning sunlight even though the curtains were closed. And hovering over me was a woman I had never expected to see ever again.

She was looking at me with a mix of irritation and concern in her soft brown eyes. "You slept through your alarm. How late were you up last night?" she said.

For several seconds, all I could do was stare with my mouth gopping open. The edges of her mouth pulled into a frown. She looked as though she was about to say something else, but then I finally managed to stammer out the only word that was screaming through my head: "M—_MOTHER?"_

_

* * *

_

**Author's Notes: **This is my first Yu-gi-oh! story in a long time, and my first to center on Bakura. Hope it's not too awful. Let me know what you think, and expect the next part to be up in a couple of days.


	2. Heaven

Chapter Two (Heaven)

I stared into the eyes of the woman who had been dead for over two years in disbelief. _This is a dream, _I thought. _This has to be a dream._

I examined her face, looking for something that was off. Whenever she or Amane appeared in my dreams, there was always some subtle difference in their appearance that alerted me to the fact that I was dreaming. Sometimes Amane had freckles. Other times, mother would have blonde hair.

The more I looked at the woman in front of me the more convinced I became that this was no dream. Every detail was exactly as I remembered it, right down to the small mole above her lips on her left cheek. Her long hair was back in a braid, but it was a messy braid and I could see wisps of stray hair sticking out of it. It was too mundane to be a dream. She was too imperfect; too_ real _to be a dream.

_The fall, _I thought. _If this isn't a dream then the fall must have killed me. _Aloud, I said, "Mother; did I…did I die?"

She frowned and a crease—the same crease that always appeared whenever she was confused or concerned—appeared on her forehead. "What on earth are you talking about, Ryou?"

"You and Amane; you're both dead—ever since the car accident, and I fell—somebody pushed me and I was falling and…." I shook my head. The words sounded silly as they left my mouth and I knew that I was rambling.

"Did you have another dream about the accident, sweetheart?"

I said nothing, but she must have taken the panicked expression on my face as a yes because her face softened into a sympathetic look and she wrapped her arms around my shoulders in a loose hug. "That was a terrible day," she whispered. "I still dream about it sometimes, too. But the important thing is that we survived and so did you."

I wanted to say, _"But you didn't survive, mom, and neither did Amane!" _I said, "Oh…that's right. We were very lucky, weren't we?"

"That's right." She gave my shoulder a squeeze before adding, "Now get up and get dressed before you're late for school. I'll fix you some breakfast."

I watched her leave the room feeling dazed. A few seconds later, I heard her singing from the kitchen over the clank of pots and pans. _Oh what a beautiful morning, _I thought, and I'm not embarrassed to admit that my eyes pricked with tears then. She used to love that song, but she could never remember any of the verses so she only ever sang the chorus over and over again. It used to drive father and Amane crazy.

I got up out of bed and noticed something I had been too distracted to see while in the presence of my until-then deceased mother—a distinct absence of weight around my neck. I sucked in a quiet gasp and patted the front of my nightshirt over my chest and all the way down to my stomach. There was nothing; not even a clink of metal against metal. That might have been proof enough for most people, but I wasn't going to believe anything until I saw it with my own eyes.

Hands shaking, I yanked the nightshirt up over my head. I was in such a hurry to get it off I ended up getting myself tangled up in it and had to contort my right arm up over my head to get out. Once I got the shirt off, I tossed it to the ground and looked down. I had not been imagining anything. The Millennium Ring was gone.

That was when the vertigo hit. I've been seasick once, when I was in elementary school. It had been during a class trip to visit one of the tiny islands off of Honshu. The whole class had crowded onto a tiny ferry and the rocking of the small boat and the briny smell of the ocean had been enough to make me sick. Luckily for me, most of the bullies in the class suffered the same fate, so nobody dared to make fun of me.

This time there was no smell of brine, but the dizziness was strong enough to make up for it. I stumbled back a step and tried to sit down on my bed but missed the bed and ended up on the floor instead. My stomach roiled as the room continued to spin around me. I closed my eyes, trying to will myself not to be sick.

I couldn't hear my mother singing anymore, but I could hear something else—a siren, muffled as though there was cotton in my ears. My body hurt. It was hard to breathe—it _hurt _to breathe. I was lying on something hard and there was something thick around my neck that wouldn't allow me to move my head.

Sounds were sharper now. I could hear people shouting to each other over the siren. The pain was stronger, too, but I didn't know where it was coming from. Everything hurt. I tried to make a sound and managed a choked whimper.

Somebody shouted, "Bakura!"

_Jounouchi, _I thought. I tried to say his name, but all that would come out was, "J—J-Jou…."

I tried to open my eyes. They wouldn't move. I tried to move my arm. Something stopped it—it was strapped down to whatever it was I was lying on. Another voice—a stranger's—said, "Don't try to move, Bakura. You've been in an accident. Do you understand?"

I tried to say yes. It came out as something between a whimper and a grunt.

"Bakura—hey, man, can you hear me?" _Jounouchi again, _I thought. "I'm sorry, Bakura. Jesus Christ, I'm sorry!"

The other voice said, "Jounouchi, we need you to stay calm. You're hurt, too. Please sit down."

"Like hell! Let me do something to help, damn it!"

A pause. Then: "Talk to him. Try to keep him conscious until we get to the hospital."

"All right, Bakura, you heard the doctor. You've gotta stay awake until we get to the hospital." He offered up a laugh that I think he must have meant to sound casual, calm, and collected. It sounded more like a strained whinny.

I wanted to answer him, even if it was nothing more than a senseless groan but I couldn't make a sound. His panicked voice seemed to come from far away: "Bakura? _BAKURA!"_

And then another voice, this one softer but brimming with concern: "Ryou?"

There was a hand on my shoulder shaking me, but there wasn't any pain. I flexed my arms and legs and found that I wasn't strapped down to anything. Instead, my face was pressed against soft carpet.

My heart was thundering in my chest and I realized that I was so soaked with cold sweat my hair was clinging against my face. _What was that? _I thought. _What's happening?_

"Ryou," said the voice—_Mother's voice, _I realized. "Are you all right?"

I opened my eyes to find myself back in the sunlit bedroom with my mother peering down at me and looking very concerned. I wanted to ask her again whether I was dead or dying. I said, "Yes; I'm fine."

I tried to sit up but my arms were shaking so badly I ended up pitching face first towards the ground. My mother caught me and helped me maneuver so I was sitting with my back supported against my bed.

"Honey, I think you should stay home from school today," she said.

"N-no!" I exclaimed. _If I can meet with Yugi, Jounouchi, Anzu, and Honda I might be able to figure out what's going on—I certainly won't learn anything sitting around in bed all day!_

She brushed my sweat-soaked bangs off my forehead with a skeptical look. "You look terrible. You can't go to school like this."

"No; really, I'm all right. I—I'm just hungry." Using the bed as a support, I stood up. I was pleased to find that the vertigo had passed and I was able to stand without swaying.

"See?" I said. I smiled and took a step away from the bed to just to prove that I could do it. "It was nothing."

She looked at me without saying a word for a long time. I could tell that she didn't believe me, despite my efforts. Finally, she dropped her gaze to the ground and sighed, "All right, if you say so. Your breakfast is ready so eat it before you take a shower. I'll drive you to school so you get there in time."

She had fixed me scrambled eggs and sausages and two pieces of toast with strawberry jam. In the years since she and Amane had died, I couldn't remember ever once eating a hot breakfast like that. (It's not that I _couldn't_ prepare one. Living on your own tends to force you to learn how to be a decent cook fairly quickly. But no matter how early I wake up, I never seem to have enough time to devote a half hour to fixing myself anything too elaborate so I usually make do with a couple of rolls from the bakery down the street and a piece of fruit if I have any.)

I wasn't used to eating such a large breakfast, but I was afraid that my mother would change her mind about letting me leave if I left anything behind so I ate every bite. I was so full I felt as though I was about to burst as I hurried through my shower and threw on some clothes. It seemed that this was enough to convince her of my health. As I got into the car, the only thing she said was, "Are you sure you have enough money for lunch?"

I checked my wallet as she pulled out of our apartment building's parking garage. There was enough for a whole weeks' worth of lunch inside. I told her not to worry, that I had plenty of money to take care of it—and then I noticed that we were not driving towards Domino High School.

I was about to point this out to her but stopped myself just in time. _If mother and Amane are alive, then maybe I don't go to Domino High, either. _I frowned as I realized the obvious complications this would add to my plan to talk to Yugi or Jounouchi or any of my other friends. _Have I even met them? Would they even recognize me if they saw me?_

My heart jumped into my throat when the car pulled up in front of the school. _This…is my first high school, _I thought, staring at the big brick building. _But then, that makes sense. No Millennium Ring means no hospitalized friends, which means no school transfers._

"Oh, can I ask you a favor, Ryou?" my mother asked as I opened the door to let myself out of the car.

"Yes; what is it?"

"Can you pick your sister up after school today? I was going to pick her up after her choir rehearsal, but I might not be able to make it there on time."

I grinned. "Of course!" _Amane, _I thought. _I'm going to see Amane again!_

"Do you remember how to get to her school?"

My grin faltered. I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from saying, "Don't we go to the same school?" Instead I said, "Er…no…."

"You'll have to take the train. I think it's about five or six stops from the station closest to your school, but your train pass should cover that. Anyways, take the Negishi line and get off at Kannai station. Then—"

I didn't hear anything after the name of the train station. It was a station I knew well. I sometimes bought lunches there when I didn't have time to make my own before school (which tends to happen a lot, I might add).

My mother was still talking, but I didn't know whether she was still giving me directions or whether she was saying something completely different. It didn't matter. "It's Domino High, isn't it?"

She smiled. "That's right. Be sure to be there around five o'clock—that's when her rehearsal should be over."

"I will."

"Thank you, Ryou. See you tonight, honey."

"Y-yes. Tonight."

_So Amane goes to Domino High, _I thought, watching the car disappear around a corner. _I wonder if she knows Yugi and the others. I'd almost rather she didn't. I wouldn't want her to be mixed up in any dangerous shadow games._

A shiver crept down my spine at the thought. I quickly banished the idea to the back of my (quiet, murderous spirit-free) mind. _Domino is a big school and she would be in the grade below them. They've probably never even seen each other._

Even though it was a perfectly logical rationalization, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of my stomach. _No, _I thought. _I'm not going to think about that now. First I need to deal with the problem I have right here in front of me: what is my first class and where on earth is it?_

Other students were hurrying inside the brick building to avoid being late. I walked forward with slow, apprehensive steps. _How am I going to manage this when I can't even remember where the toilets are? _I wondered.

A voice from somewhere behind me shouted, "Oy, Ryou! Wait up!"

I stopped in my tracks. The voice was a bit deeper than I remembered it, but I had only ever had one friend who was close enough to call me by my personal name. I took a deep breath, turned around to face the boy who was running towards me, and said, "Hi, Shosuke."

I'd met Shosuke at a horror movie triple feature one weekend in middle school. We had both turned up alone (he because all his friends were too afraid to go, me because I didn't have any friends to ask), and since we were the only two people under the age of sixteen at the event we'd ended up spending most of it together.

Aside from our mutual love of horror movies we'd had very little in common. I was shy and awkward around other people, but he was confident and always seemed to know exactly what to say to put somebody at ease. He was a notorious rule-breaker, I was an impossible goody-two-shoes. More importantly, he was popular and I most certainly was not.

None of his friends (and most likely, none of our teachers) could understand how our friendship worked. I don't think I could have explained it myself. In spite of that, we were such good friends that he'd once dyed his hair bright orange when some of the older students made fun of my long hair. (It had gotten him a weeklong suspension and he'd come back to school with a buzz cut that looked even more ridiculous than the dye job.)

Thanks to him, I'd finally started making some of my own friends—until the spirit sealed his soul into one of my Monster World figures. I'd seen him only once after that, lying comatose in a hospital bed.

But there he was, standing in front of me just the same as always, right down to the plaid shirt he always wore with the collar popped so it would show past the neckline of his school uniform. "Man, I never get here at the same time as you do. Either I'm crazy early or you're late," he said with the same lopsided smile I'd seen thousands of times before.

The words were no sooner out of his mouth when the final bell rang. I was still fumbling for something to say (honestly, what do you say to somebody that you accidentally turned into a soulless vegetable two years ago in an alternate reality?), but he just laughed and said, "Huh. Guess that answers that. Come on, Ryou; might as well face the wrath of Miss Katoh together, right?"

"Er…right." I fell into step beside him, grateful that I had managed to find somebody to show me the way to my first class before anybody figured out that I had no idea where I was supposed to be.

My first class turned out to be math. As Shosuke had predicted, Miss Katoh was furious with us for being late, but I was too focused on the other students in the class to pay much attention to her shouting. One of the girls in the front row waved to me—not to Shosuke; to _me—_with a small smile. A boy seated in the row farthest from the door rolled his eyes at the teacher's back and pretended to gag before offering up a wave. I felt bad that I didn't remember either of their names.

The rest of the day was surreal. The students in the math class weren't the only ones who seemed to know and like me. I was stopped in the hall between every class, but instead pulling my hair or calling me names, these people wanted to tell me about the girl who got her party busted by the police or the guy who got into a fight yesterday or the teacher who got called in to talk with the school board under Very Mysterious Circumstances. In every class there were friends that I had never had—so many I quit counting. I didn't realize what all of this meant until I was sitting at the center of a crowded table in the cafeteria: I was popular.

_Could I really have had this many friends? _I thought, watching as Shosuke offered a cup of chocolate pudding to one of the few people at the table I knew. _Natsuko Arai. She doesn't like chocolate._

Sure enough, the girl refused the pudding. I looked away from her with a twist of guilt. She was the second person who got trapped in a Monster World figurine after Shosuke.

"Yo, Bakura! You OK? You haven't said anything since we got here," said one of the boys who was sitting across from me at the table. I didn't remember his name, but I did remember that he had been one of the many people who could never pass up an opportunity to push, trip, or generally harass me when I'd known him before. Now he was looking at me with genuine concern.

"Yeah," Shosuke chimed in. "You've been out of it all day."

"I'm fine; I've just been thinking about—" _the fact that I have absolutely no idea who most of you are _"—the English test we have after lunch. I forgot to study for it."

Shosuke laughed. "Don't worry about _that. _I didn't study for it either."

"I'm sure you'll do fine," Natsuko added. "You always do."

The girl who had waved to me in math class put in some similar words of encouragement and offered me a vanilla cream puff "to cheer me up." Her cheeks went pink when I accepted the gift. I still had no idea what her name was.

The second half of the day passed much like the first. The only difference was that now people were stopping me in the hall to offer me invitations to go to the park or the arcade or the library to study together after school. I must have gotten more invitations to go out with friends in that one afternoon than I had gotten in my entire life and I wasn't sure what to do about all the extra attention. Remembering my mother's request to pick up Amane, I turned them all down with a sense of relief.

I was still reeling from all the attention after I got off the train at Kannai station and started my walk towards Domino High. I had always wanted to have lots of friends, but I had never imagined exactly how it would feel to have that dream come true. A small part of me felt guilty for not knowing so many of these new friends' names. I resolved to learn them all perfectly on the following Monday. (Could this possibly last until then? Lord, I hoped so!)

I was so caught up in reflecting on how wonderful the day had been I didn't recognize the road I was walking on until I came to the overpass. I stopped and looked up and down the deserted road with a sense of disbelief. _Why did I come this way? _I wondered, staring hard at the pavement in front of me. _This is the same place those thugs tried to beat up Jounouchi._

_I was standing right here when they pulled my hair…._

I looked from the patch of gray at my feet to a greasy oil stain a few feet farther along. _That's where they shoved me down onto my face._

My eyes trailed a bit farther, closer to the edge of the road. _And that's where I…. _A cold sense of dread crept down my spine. _No!_

I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to look at the rickety old guardrail I'd fallen through. With my eyes still closed, I took one baby step forward, followed by another, and another, and another.

I'm not sure what I intended to do, exactly. I think I might have meant to creep along with my eyes closed until I was completely across the overpass. If that's the case I failed miserably because when I opened my eyes again I was standing directly in the middle of it, giving me a perfect view of the guardrail I'd taken such pains to avoid seeing.

It was almost exactly as I remembered it. The white paint was still flaking, and it was still missing half its supports. The supports it did have were still crooked and rusty. The only difference was the three foot gap that had appeared in the otherwise unbroken line of metal.

_That's the place I broke through, _I thought, and sank down to my knees as another wave of nauseating vertigo swept over me. I closed my eyes and hugged my arms up over my head, trying to ignore the way the empty street was rocking and spinning underneath my feet.

There was a strange pressure against my face—something was pressing against my cheekbones. I tried to reach up and touch it but my arm didn't seem to want to move. I couldn't tell whether my eyes were open or not, but either way, it was dark. I felt something against my back that was firm, but not as hard as the asphalt I'd been sitting on a moment ago.

There was a quiet mechanical whirring. I tried to move again. My body felt heavy and slow and there was a dull ache that seemed to come from far, far away. I couldn't move.

_Don't you dare die, landlord, _said the spirit's voice. He sounded angry, although that's fairly normal. He also sounded concerned, which was something I had never heard in his voice before. Until then I hadn't thought he was capable of feeling such a thing.

Everything went quiet again, save for the low whirring of the machine that I could not see. For a long time, all I could do was lie still, listening to the rhythmic, almost hypnotic mechanical sound. Then: _Damn it, you weakling, WAKE UP!_

My eyes snapped open and I discovered that I had somehow managed to wander over to the gap in the guardrail during my dizzy spell. I was leaning far out over the edge, giving me a stomach-turning view of the dizzying drop to the cracked pavement far below.

I jerked away from the drop with a choked scream. I swayed on the spot, flailing my arms as I teetered on the edge, and squeezed my eyes shut as I began to tip forward. My train of thought was a confused, panicked jumble—_Oh my God I'm going to fall, I'm going to FALL—there's no guardrail to stop me—I'mgoingtofallfallfallf-a-a-a-a-l!_

A rough yank on the hem of my school jacket sent me tumbling backwards, away from the drop. I landed hard on my backside and scraped my hands, but I scarcely felt the sting thanks to the fear-spiked adrenaline that was fizzing through my veins.

Still shuddering with the close call, I opened my mouth to thank whoever it was that had saved me—and felt my throat constrict when I saw who it was. Not just one, but two tall boys wearing an unfamiliar school uniform were standing over me. Both of them were bulky with brutish muscle, and both had a hard look to them that made them seem much too old to be normal high school students. _These are the same thugs from before, _I thought.

I couldn't move, could scarcely _breathe _with the shock. I think I might have tried to say something, but all I was able to do was open and close my mouth like a beached fish. The taller of the two thugs—_The one that pushed me over the edge, _I hysterically thought—glared down at me as though I was something nasty stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "The hell were you thinking, you stupid pansy-ass pretty boy?"

"I—I…." I shook my head. On legs that felt about as substantial as putty, I got to my feet and took a faltering step away.

The other thug snapped out and caught my arm. His beefy hand was big enough to wrap all the way around my bicep. "Where do you think you're going, you ungrateful little bitch?"

"P-please—" I winced. My voice had come out as a tight squeak. I cleared my throat and tried again: "Please let go."

The taller thug snickered and his companion's grip on my arm tightened to a painful degree. "Not until you pay up."

"What?"

"We saved your pathetic ass. The least you can do is show us a little gratitude, don't you think?"

"I don't understand what you're talking ab—ow!" I exclaimed as the thug that had hold of me shifted his grip to twist my arm behind my back.

With his mouth split into a crooked grin, the taller thug bent so we were face to face. "You look gay enough I bet mommy and daddy have enough money to send you to some prissy-ass prep school. So come on; pay up, bitch."

I stared at him with my mouth gaping open until his crony gave my arm a jerk that sent a spike of pain from my elbow to my chest. I let out a clipped yelp which both of them seemed to find amusing ("Even squeals like a girl. What a fag!" crowed the arm-twister) and fished in my pocket for my wallet with my free arm.

As soon as the wallet was in view, the thug let go of me. For half a second, I considered trying to make a run for it. Then I decided that I was better off not pushing my luck. _For all I know, they would dump me over the edge if I tried it, _I thought as I handed over a wad of bills.

The tall thug smiled. "Pleasure doing business with you. Now get the hell out of here before we decide to quit being so nice."

The thug that had been holding my arm gave me a shove from behind. I took two tottering steps forward, managed to avoid sprawling face-first on the ground, and broke into a sprint with the thugs' laughter ringing in my ears. I didn't slow down until I reached the safety of the Domino High School campus. Amazingly, I did not trip once.

_How ironic, _I thought as I headed towards the choir room. _The people who pushed me off the overpass before are the ones that saved me from suffering the same fate this time, never mind the motivation._ A laugh bubbled up in my throat at the thought. Perhaps it was a delayed reaction to my brush with mortality, or perhaps it was simply the sheer strangeness of the situation, but the next thing I knew I was laughing so hard I had to lean against a row of lockers for support. Some poor girl who happened to be walking down the hall stared at me as though I had gone mad and gave me an extra-wide berth as she passed.

It wasn't until my stomach ached and my eyes were streaming that I was finally able to get my laughter under control. I was still swallowing back something between a giggle and a hiccough when I rounded a corner to find a tall boy with a very distinctive upturned hairstyle waiting outside the choir room with a bouquet of white lilies in his hand.

"H-Honda!" I exclaimed, glad to see a familiar face.

He turned towards me and furrowed his brow. "Uh…do I know you?"

I stopped in my tracks. I was surprised by how much it hurt to have somebody I had grown used to considering a friend look at me like that. _Of course he wouldn't recognize me, _I reminded myself. _I never transferred to Domino High._ Aloud, I said, "Oh; I'm sorry. My name is Bakura."

"Bakura, huh? You wouldn't happen to be related to the Amane Bakura that transferred here last term, would you?"

I smiled. "I'm her older brother."

"Ah-hah!" he exclaimed. "So the famous big brother finally appears!" I must have looked confused because he hastily added, "She's always talking about you."

"She talks about you a lot, too."

He straightened up with a grin. "She does?"

"Er…yes. She tells me so much about you and your friends I feel like I've known you all for a very long time."

"Oh," he sighed, seeming to deflate a bit at the words 'and your friends.' I began to have a sneaking suspicion about the lilies.

Trying to keep my tone as innocent as possible, I said, "So…who's the lucky girl you brought the flowers for?"

If the look of horror on his face wasn't evidence enough, his stammered reply of "Oh…heh…n-nobody" confirmed what I had been suspecting beyond any doubt.

I stared at the not-at-all innocent bouquet of flowers. _I think I understand now why Jounouchi always acts so ridiculous whenever it comes to the subject of Shizuka's love life, _I thought.

I racked my brain for something to say without making the situation any more awkward. Luckily, that was when the choir room door opened and the people inside started filing out.

"Look; I've got to go," Honda said, hiding the lilies behind his back. "I'll, uh…see you again some other time, huh?"

He began to hurry off down the hall without waiting for me to answer. I called after him, "It was nice to meet y—" and then I trailed off because I saw _her._

She was a bit taller at fifteen than she had been at the time of the accident, and she was wearing makeup—something I had never seen her do. In spite of that, she had the same big brown eyes, and the same long, soft hair that trailed down to the small of her back.

But it wasn't any of these small differences or similarities that I noticed when I saw my younger sister for the first time in over two years. The thing I noticed first was the pendant hanging around her neck. It was a large, gold thing with five points and the Eye of Horus engraved into the center: the Millennium Ring.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **You didn't really think that the Millennium Ring was going to stay out of the picture, did you? Of course you didn't. On a side note, there will be two more chapters, but they will be a bit shorter than the first two were. (Originally, I was only going to have three chapters, but for pacing's sake I decided to split the last one into two.) Part three should be up within the next couple of days. I've just got to do a few final edits.

Thanks to Ryou VeRua, horseygurl, and Doodle Sketch for reviewing chapter one. I love hearing what people think!


	3. Trouble in Paradise

Chapter Three (Trouble in Paradise)

I felt as though the world had come to a sudden, bone-jarring stop. _This can't be real, _I thought as I stared at that cursed piece of metal swaying against Amane's chest. _I'm not seeing this. I'm not seeing this!_

One of the students who had left the choir room before her stumbled and knocked their shoulder against mine. I barely registered their mumbled apology. I didn't even notice whether it had been a guy or a girl. I couldn't have noticed—I felt as though I couldn't even breathe. All I could do was stare at the Millennium Ring feeling ill.

"What are you doing here, big brother?" she asked.

Her voice was exactly as I remembered it. It was so familiar it hurt. I half-expected her to start singing the national anthem. _Just like in my dream, _I thought.

"You don't look well," she said. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Amane," I said. My voice sounded tinny, like an old recording playing through an ancient radio. "Mother asked me to pick you up after school today."

"Oh," she sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" I queried as we started off down the hall together. "Why are you sorry?"

"I told her not to worry about not being able to come and get me today so she made you come all the way out here instead."

"It's really no trouble at all," I assured her.

"Yes, but I'm not a little kid anymore—I'm fifteen years old!" she scowled. "I could make it home on my own."

"Oh…." I didn't know what to say beyond that. Amane had never gotten on well with our mother. It seemed that had not changed.

Her eyes went wide. "I'm sorry; that didn't come out the way I meant it to! It's not like I'm not happy to see _you!"_

"That's all right. Er…how was your choir rehearsal?"

If my sweet sister had one fatal flaw, it was that she absolutely loved to talk about her accomplishments as a singer. I was sure that if anything could take her mind off whatever argument she had had with our mother, it was that. Sure enough; her face seemed to light up at the question and she happily began to tell me all about the program for their next concert.

I wanted to listen and savor every word, but my attention kept drifting back to the Millennium Ring. Now that the initial shock of seeing it around her neck had passed, I was angry. Even though I knew the spirit inside couldn't read my thoughts, I found myself thinking, _How dare you follow me here? Why must you ruin everything?_

The whispering—had Amane already started to hear it? Had she already started having the blackouts? If she had already come into contact with Yugi _(and the Puzzle, _I thought. _Let's not forget about that), _she must have.

It wasn't fair. It was so very, very unfair. How had the spirit seduced its way into her mind? What had it promised her? How many lies had it had to tell before she started listening? How much misery had she already endured?

I no longer cared about pretending I was a part of this new reality. I wanted—_needed—_answers, no matter how strange my questions might sound.

"Amane, where did you get that necklace?" My mouth tripped over the word 'necklace.' It felt wrong to talk about the horrible thing as though it was a harmless bauble.

She trailed off in the middle of her monologue and the skin between her eyebrows puckered into a crease. "Don't you remember?"

I smiled. "Refresh my memory."

The crease between her eyebrows deepened. "I got it from you."

My heart slammed to a halt. "From me? I—I gave you…?"

"Father sent it all the way from Egypt for your birthday, but it ended up arriving so late it was closer to _my _birthday. I thought it was interesting so you gave it to me as an early birthday present."

"And you've worn it every day since," I faintly said.

"That's right."

I felt a scream well up in the back of my throat. Seeing the Ring around her neck had been bad enough but knowing that I was responsible for its being there was one of the most painful things I had ever experienced.

We had reached a bridge. I wobbled over to the railing and leaned against it for support, staring down at the murky, fast-flowing creek below.

Amane's voice seemed to come from far away: "Big brother? Are you all right?"

I couldn't answer. My throat was tight and my nose and eyes were burning. I was sure that if I opened my mouth I would be sick. _I'm sorry, Amane, _I thought. _I'm so very, very sorry!_

I felt a hand on my shoulder. One of _her _hands. "You've been acting strange all day. What's wrong? You can tell me."

I didn't want to look away from the rippling, brown water below. I didn't deserve to look at her. I managed to swallow down the lump in my throat to croak, "Amane…can I see that necklace?"

A sudden gust of wind swept my hair into my face. Some of it got into my eyes and stung, but I didn't brush it away. Amane was quiet until the wind died down. Then: "Why?"

It was only one word, spoken so softly she might not have said it at all, but there was a harshness that had crept into her voice that was enough to make ice creep down my spine. I turned around to face her—and had to strangle back a scream.

The differences were so subtle even I wouldn't have noticed them if I hadn't known what to look for. Anybody else would have attributed the slightly disheveled hair to the wind. It would have been easy to pretend that the reason her eyes were suddenly so sharp and cold was that she was irritated with me for acting so strangely. I knew better.

I acted without thought. It felt as though my hand belonged to somebody else as it shot out, snatched the Ring and gave it a yank strong enough to snap the old leather thong it hung on. The spirit seemed just as shocked by my actions as I was—all it did before I severed its connection to Amane was widen its hate-filled eyes.

The Ring was warm in my hands. I didn't know whether this was because it had been resting against Amane's chest or whether it was because it was that way all on its own. The dangling spikes clinked against each other with a sound that was closer to a hiss than the sound of metal against metal. I did the only thing I could think of: I tossed it into the stream and watched as it floated away; a pale speck of gold that seemed to glow in the brown water.

Amane stirred beside me as though coming out of a dream. "Big brother? Were you saying something?" A pause, then: "Oh no; what happened to my necklace?"

"It fell into the creek," I immediately replied. Even if she already had some inkling of the truth, I couldn't bear to explain what I had done and why I had done it. "You were leaning out over the railing. I was showing you something—a…a carp. The string broke and it fell."

"Oh," she whispered. And then, to my surprise, she burst into tears.

"Amane, are you—"  
"I'm sorry!" she sobbed. "Y-you gave it to me, even though I could tell it m-meant a lot to you, coming from father, and I lost it so c-carelessly!"

I shook my head. "You look much better without it."

"B-but—"

"I'm serious. It didn't suit you at all."

"Really?"

"Yes; really. Now let's get home before mother worries."

We started across the bridge, but then she grabbed my arm and sniffled, "Wait; shouldn't we at least try to look for it?"

"No!" I winced. The word had come out much more forcefully than I'd intended it to. I amended my tone and added, "I saw it get washed downstream—we would never find it."

She looked down at the ground. "I…I guess you're right. I'm sorry."

"Please don't be sorry. You were saying earlier that you wanted to try out for a solo….?"

"Y-yes," she sighed.

"Tell me more about that."

She nodded and resumed her narrative, but all of the energy had gone out of her words and she didn't take her eyes off the ground. By the time we reached the station, she'd gone quiet and we passed the train ride home in silence. I felt terrible for upsetting her, but I knew beyond any sliver of doubt that this situation was preferable to the alternative.

When we got home, she went to help mother prepare dinner without a single complaint—something I could not remember her ever doing before. My mother seemed just as surprised as I was ("Are you feeling all right, honey?") but didn't hesitate to put her to work chopping potatoes. I offered to help, but they only laughed as though I had told a hilarious joke.

"Go to your room and start on your homework if you want to do something productive," my mother gasped through her laughter. "We have everything under control here."

I left the kitchen and started down the hall to my room feeling slightly miffed. _I just wanted to help, _I thought as I opened the door to my room and stepped inside. _They didn't need to laugh at me for—_"Oh…oops."

Instead of my room, I was standing in a room that was decorated in shades of lavender. In one corner, there was a small computer with a Winnie the Pooh screensaver and posters of pop singers were hanging on the walls. There was a bookshelf crammed with books, most of which were probably romance novels judging by their pastel bindings.

_This must be Amane's room, _I realized._ How on earth did I end up in here?_

I noticed a bulletin board that was plastered with pictures of people who must have been Amane's friends. I didn't know most of them, but I saw a few pictures of Yugi, Jounouchi, Anzu, and Honda there. I also saw a Polaroid picture of her and me playing together in a sandbox. It was so old the colors looked bleached.

My lips crooked up into a smile, but I couldn't help feeling a bit guilty. _These are her private things, _I thought. _I shouldn't be in here prying around._

I started back towards the door, but then I noticed something that stopped me in my tracks. I scanned the room once more just to be sure that I had not overlooked anything. There was not a single Monster World figurine to be seen.

_What does that mean? _I wondered as I backed out of the room and shut the door behind me. _Has the spirit been inactive all the while she was wearing the Ring?_

I frowned. Somehow, I found it difficult to believe that the spirit would allow two years to pass without stirring up some sort of trouble.

_Did she somehow manage to resist him? But I was so sure of what I saw on the bridge—and why would she have transferred to Domino High? The spirit must have done something…but if he didn't trap people's souls in Monster World figurines…. _"What did he do?" I whispered.

My mother's suggestion to "do something productive" in lieu of helping to prepare dinner no longer seemed quite so irksome. I hurried to my room and turned on my laptop, pacing the room as it worked through its startup sequence. The moment my Change of Heart desktop blinked to life, I connected to the Internet and went to the homepage for the _Asahi Newspaper._

I clicked on the "Search Archives" button and considered a moment before entering in "Bakura." I silently thanked God that my family name was an uncommon one when thirty-four results popped up on the screen. Most of the results were articles about my father's museum, although there were a few about the accident which my mother and sister had apparently survived. There was only one article that had nothing to do with neither the museum nor the accident, and the headline was "Amane Bakura Takes Top Honors at Prefecture Music Contest."

I was tempted to click on that last headline and read more about my younger sister's achievement. I clicked the back button instead. _I'll read it later; after I find what I'm looking for, _I promised myself.

I wasn't sure what keywords to use after the search page reloaded. _I should have known it wouldn't be as simple as looking up our name, _I thought. _There were always articles in the paper when one of my friends fell into a coma, but they never included my name in any of them._ I finally settled on the words "student" and "tragic." After a moment's thought, I limited the results to show articles between the current date and two years prior.

There were so many articles that came up in response to those words I was left wondering if there was a single student in Japan who had not suffered through a newsworthy tragedy. With a sigh, I began to wade through the pages of headlines.

I spent all afternoon sifting through morbid headlines like "Shocked Kanagawa Prefecture! 3 Students Dead; 19 Injured" and "Student Drowns on School Trip." By the time I was ready for bed, I had created a list of about fifty articles that reported on incidents that had happened in our prefecture. Unfortunately, the most I was able to read of them beyond the headline was the first line of text. Beyond that, an oil-slick polite message encouraged me to "Read the rest with a monthly membership fee—starting as low as 2500 yen a month!"

_I suppose I'll have to go to the library tomorrow and check their archives, _I thought as I crawled into bed. _Good thing I wrote down all the publish dates._

I closed my eyes and I must not have been asleep long enough to dream because the next thing I remember is a voice saying, "Wake up, big brother."

With my mouth full of sleepy fuzz, I mumbled, "Amane?"

Before I was able to clear the sleep from my eyes, I was jerked out of bed and shoved up against the wall with a pair of slim hands wrapped tightly around my neck. I tried to cry out, but the sound stuck in my throat and came out as a dry gag. Even in the dark room, I could see the glint of gold well enough to recognize the Millennium Ring hanging from my sister's neck.

"Did you really think you could get rid of me that easily, boy?"

I grunted as those hands, those smooth, dainty hands shook me hard enough to snap my head back against the wall. Then two thumbs were pressing into the middle of my throat. I could feel my throat constrict under the pressure. My mouth gaped open and sucked for the air, but nothing could get past the pinch in my throat.

She—no; the spirit. I refuse to connect my sister to that beast. The spirit loomed so close I could feel its breath on my face. "I am only going to say this once, so listen very carefully, mortal. You cannot protect this girl. You cannot get rid of me. I have waited thousands of years for this chance, and I have no intention of allowing anybody to stand in my way. If you attempt another stunt like that, I will kill you."

Its face curled into a cruel smirk. "Or perhaps I should say your beloved sister will kill you. And she will live the rest of her life knowing that her dear brother died a horrible death at her own hands."

It released me from its chokehold and I tumbled to the ground, smashing my face against the headboard of my bed on the way down. I couldn't stop coughing and it _hurt _against my raw throat and I was dizzy and oh, God a foot on my chest told me that the spirit was still there, hovering over me, watching.

"My, my. It appears as though I've forgotten how fragile you mortals are. But no matter. You'll live. For now."

That twisted parody of my sister's face hovered into view again. "Consider this your first and only warning, boy," said the voice that was hers and not hers and dear God it was _his. _And then it was gone.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Only one more chapter to go! Look for it in a couple of days. Reviews and constructive criticism are always greatly appreciated.

Thanks to pride1289, horseygurl, Ryou VeRua, and Doodle Sketch for all of your encouraging reviews!


	4. Hell Again

Chapter Four (Hell Again)

I didn't sleep well after the spirit's visit, though not for the reason you might expect. Of course I was shaken by the spirit's threat, and of course I was horrified to see how quickly he had returned. But then again, it wasn't too unusual for him to say something awful to me in the night, and I hadn't really expected him to stay away for long, anyway.

The reason I had trouble sleeping was the dream. Every time I closed my eyes, it was the same. It always started with a burning sensation in my chest that made it difficult to breathe. It felt as though a rough, clawed hand was squeezing my lungs, and no matter how much air I managed to pull in around the pressure it was never enough.

Then I became aware of my blood pounding through my veins and urging me to move faster, faster, _faster! _The rhythmic slap of sneakers against concrete rose to a frantic tempo as my aching legs struggled to keep up. And that was when I realized that I was running.

I was running down a long, empty street. Everything—the sky, the pavement, even my skin—was red in the fiery blaze of the setting sun. It was as though a giant with a macabre sense of humor had picked up a paintbrush and coated everything in a layer of blood. From somewhere far, far away, I heard a voice shouting, "Come back, Bakura; come _back!"_

I don't know why I was running away from that voice. It didn't sound threatening. It sounded sad; tearful, even. I wanted to look behind me to see who it belonged to, but the dream would only permit me to look straight ahead, at the overpass I was about to cross.

I never made it to the other side of that overpass, of course. Halfway across I would always trip on my shoelace (or maybe I tripped over nothing at all—I tend to do that a lot), and tumble through a gap in the railing and down, down, down—into my bed, where I would jerk awake to find myself shaking and drenched with sweat. After my heart stopped thundering against my chest, I would roll over and go back to sleep—only to repeat the whole thing.

By the time the sun came up, I was so frazzled I decided that sleep was a lost cause and rolled out of bed to see about getting a bit of breakfast. I tiptoed down the hall, careful not to wake anybody up. It was early—before six o'clock—and a Saturday. I was sure that even my mother, early riser that she was, would appreciate at least one more hour of sleep.

In the kitchen, I dug through the pantry until I found a bag of croissants and poured myself a glass of apple juice. I also found a pad of paper and a pen. As I munched on a mouthful of croissant, I wrote, _Went to the library to do some research. Will be back before lunch. Love, Ryou. _Then I brushed my teeth, put on my favorite jeans and tee-shirt, and left the apartment with my list of articles in hand.

The prefecture library was a long way from my apartment. It was far enough that under normal circumstances, I would have taken the train to get there. I decided to walk instead to enjoy the sun before it got warm enough to give me a sunburn. (I've been known to get sunburns even in the dead of winter if the sun is particularly bright, so strolling along outside in the April sun was a rare treat.) I also wasn't sure that the library would be open by the time I got there if I took the train.

It was cooler outside than I'd expected it to be, but I didn't mind. The crisp air felt good and my head felt clearer than it had ever since I'd woken up in this strange new reality. There were no cars on the road, no people out for a morning stroll. Everything was quiet—the sort of magical stillness that only exists in the early hours of a weekend morning. Out of the house and away from the spirit, enjoying the feel of a day about to begin, it was hard to believe I was on my way to investigate something that could bring it all crashing down around my ears.

Admittedly, I had no idea what I was going to find when I got to the library. If I'd have been just a little more naïve, just a little less familiar with the spirit, I might have been able to believe myself when I thought, _Maybe there won't be anything there at all._ Instead, all I could think was, _Do I really want to spoil this?_ _Amane and mother alive; Shosuke and Natsuko—do I really want to let _him _ruin it all?_

My steps faltered at that idea. I wanted to go back. I wanted to turn around and forget about the library and the list in my hands and go home. I was sure that if I hurried I could still make it back in time to surprise mother and Amane with a hot breakfast. I wanted to do it so, so badly. I kept walking forward.

When I got to the library a little over an hour later, the doors were just being opened to the public. It appeared as though I wasn't the only one who had business to attend to at the library. There was quite a crowd waiting to get inside, and I had to wait in line between an old woman with an armful of books and a gruff-looking man who was wearing torn jeans and a wrinkled shirt.

Once I was finally inside, I went to the information desk and said, "Excuse me; where are your newspaper archives?"

The woman behind the desk was a petite, elderly lady with a kind face. She looked up at me through a pair of small, wire-rimmed spectacles perched on her nose and said, "Are you looking for recent news or are you looking for older editions?"

"Er…I want to look up articles from about two years ago."

"In that case we should still have a hard copy. You'll have to go down to the basement, I'm afraid. If you want anything from more than five years ago, you'll have to use the microfiche machines."

I smiled, thanked her, and left before she decided to ask any questions.

When I'd heard the way she'd said the word 'basement', I'd expected a dismal, dungeon-like pit with flickering torches and possibly rats. The basement was deserted when I arrived, but much to my relief, it was far from dismal. Between the long rows of florescent lights and the white tile floor, it was bright enough to make my eyes sting. _Rats wouldn't stand a chance down here, _I thought as I searched through the stacks. _It's too clean._

I'm not sure how long I spent poring over the articles on my list. I do remember that the first few were not at all what I was looking for. (In fact, one of them was nothing more than a critical review of a high school production of Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet.)_

It was the fifteenth article that made my blood run cold.

* * *

**Promising Young Soloist Passes Away**

Yuka Murakami, a student at Fukushima prep school collapsed at school and passed away while being transported to the hospital yesterday afternoon. Murakami had been on her way to attend a choir rehearsal when she suddenly collapsed. A fellow student who was with her at the time of the collapse called for an ambulance.

Hospital staff believe that Murakami's death may have been caused by an underlying heart condition. Murakami was known to suffer from hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, a condition which can obstruct blood flow and prevent the heart from functioning properly.

A serious student and popular with her peers, Murakami was active in student government and also showed great promise as a singer. "She was a wonderful, hard-working girl and an excellent soprano" said choir teacher Reiko Aoshima "This is a terrible tragedy; we will all miss her very much."

Murakami was a two time winner of the prefecture-wide music contest.

* * *

I stared at the article in my hands, gripping the paper so tightly it bunched between my fingers. The word "choir" glared up at me so sharply it might as well have been highlighted in florescent yellow ink. I shook my head. _It's a coincidence, _I thought, even though in my heart of hearts I knew the truth. _It has to be a coincidence._

It only took one more article to wipe the last shred of denial from my mind.

* * *

**Major Health Threat Suspected as Fukushima Prep Suffers Fourth Tragic Loss**

Health officials have begun an in-depth investigation regarding the mysterious deaths of four students at Fukushima prep school. Four members of the school's well-known choir, Yuka Murakami, Chiaki Kuwabata, Maki Tamura, and Sadako Shibata collapsed and suddenly passed away either at or on their way to scheduled after school choir rehearsals.

"The choir is clearly the common link here, so that is where we will start our investigation," said Takeshi Goto, a public health official.

Fukushima prep will take an unscheduled two day break in order to facilitate the investigation. Extracurricular clubs are encouraged to meet off-campus during this time, but students who are active in the choir are requested to undergo a medical examination before participating.

* * *

_Amane Bakura Takes Top Honors at Prefecture Music Contest, _I numbly thought as I returned the newspaper to its place on the shelf. I understood now why I had seen no figurines in her room. Amane had never had any trouble making friends like I had, but she'd always had a competitive streak when it came to her singing. _You always had to be the best, didn't you? _I thought.

I stayed there in the stacks for a long time, hating myself for thinking that Amane could be taken in on something as petty as a promise for stardom; hating the spirit for knowing exactly how to exploit a person's dreams and twist them into something disgusting; hating the spirit for corrupting my sister into a murderer; hating myself for _allowing it to happen _by giving her the Ring in the first place…. And when I was finally too tired and too hollow to find any more reasons to hate the spirit or myself I thought, _I have to fix this._

_It wasn't meant to be like this, _I thought. _I have to make everything go back to the way it was before. Go…back…._

"Go back," I muttered. _I think I know how._

I left the library and went home with the greatest sense of peace I had experienced since I'd received that fateful package from my father two years ago. True to the note I had left, I returned home just before lunch. My father was out—whether he was at the museum or at an excavation in Egypt, I did not know. It didn't matter. In a way, I preferred it being just the three of us—Amane, mother, and I.

"Did you finish all your research?" my mother asked as we all slurped away at big bowls of homemade ramen.

I smiled. "Yes, I did."

Amane wrinkled her nose. "Really, big brother, you're the only person I know who would do school work on a Saturday morning."

I didn't say anything in response. I was content to just enjoy a meal made by someone who loved me and savor the sound of my sister's voice. If I was careful to avoid looking at the Millennium Ring, I could almost pretend that everything was the way it had been before.

I won't tell you everything we did and said that day. Perhaps it's selfish, but that is something I want to keep for myself. To tell you the truth, there's not much to tell. After all, neither of them knew that it was the last time they would see me again, and I wasn't about to tell them. I was content to spend the entire day with them, just watching them go about their business. I wanted to make sure that I remembered every special mannerism forever. The way mother sang songs to her plants as she watered them. The way Amane twirled her hair around her index finger when she was thinking about something. The way mother always smelled like miso soup, even underneath the flowery perfume she liked to wear. The way Amane liked to tug on my sleeve to get my attention when she had something she wanted to say. I tucked it all away into a private corner of my mind.

I waited until after dinner to say my goodbyes. First, I told my mother that I was going out with a few friends—"Shosuke and Natsuko and a few other friends from school," I'd said. She just smiled and told me to have fun and not to come home too late.

"I won't," I answered, and felt my gut twist when I realized that I didn't want the last thing I said to my mother to be a lie. I swallowed and added, "I love you, mother."

Mother seemed surprised by the sudden affection. She furrowed her brow, but offered a smile and said, "I love you, too." Somehow, that was enough.

I headed down the hall to Amane's room. I hesitated at the door. This was the part I'd been dreading more than anything else. I hoped I didn't embarrass myself by crying in front of her.

I knocked once and pushed the door open. She was sitting at her computer, but she turned around to face me when I came in. I noticed that there was a Word document on the screen and wondered if she was writing something for school.

"I'm going out for the night," I said. Somehow—I don't know how—I managed to keep my voice casual.

"Oh—can I come with you?"

I had to swallow a lump in my throat before I answered, "No; I'm sorry." I knew I wouldn't be able to do the thing I had to do if she was there watching.

She rolled her eyes. "Well then why did you bother to tell me?"

"Amane…." I trailed off and nervously licked my lips. How could I possibly say everything I needed to say—all the things I'd wanted to say for over two years? Finally, I said, "I love you very much. Never forget that."

"All right…. I love you, too, of course."

My throat itched. I could feel a sob rolling up into my mouth. I disguised it as a cough. Then I said, "I love you, and that's why I'm going to fix this."

She frowned. "Fix what?"

Before I could reply, her eyes went cold and her mouth crooked up into a smirk. The voice that came out of her mouth was a harsh parody of her usual confident but kind tone.

"I thought we went over this last night," the spirit spat. "This girl belongs to me and she always will."

The spirit was still talking, but I didn't have any interest in talking to him, so I did something that was almost as satisfying as spending one last day with Amane and my mother had been. I turned around and I left.

There was an indignant squawk from the spirit, and I heard him snarl, "How dare you turn your back on me when I'm talking to you? Get back here, you little worm!" Then I closed the apartment door behind me and heard nothing else.

Once I was out of the apartment building, I hurried to the train station. Part of me was afraid that if I waited too long I would lose my nerve.

My hands shook as I watched the buildings whip by from my seat on the train. I don't know whether they were shaking from fear or whether it was from the excitement of knowing that no matter what the spirit thought, I _was _going to free Amane from him. I prefer to think that it was the latter.

The sun was a red disk on the horizon when I got off the train at Kannai station. Everything was bathed in red as I ran down the road. The sky, the pavement—even my skin was tinted pink.

_Come back, Bakura, _I thought. _I wasn't running away from the voice; I was running to meet it._

I didn't trip when I reached the overpass like I had in the dream. Instead, I came to an easy stop in front of the three-foot gap in the railing and stood there staring at drop before me. I stayed like that for a few minutes, watching the sun sink lower.

I felt a pang as the sky darkened from blazing red to electric purple. _I never got to see Shosuke again, _I thought. _Can I really just leave without saying goodbye to him? Or telling him I'm sorry? And what about mother? And Amane—can I stand to lose Amane again?_

It was that last thought that brought me out of my reverie. "I'm not losing her," I whispered. "I'm saving her."

_It's now or never, _I thought. I turned around so that the gap was directly behind me and stretched my arms wide. And with a sigh, I let myself tip back, back, back, until there was no possible way to stop myself. My feet left the ground and then I was freefalling—tumbling through the air with the ground rushing up to meet me.

I closed my eyes and then I felt something soft but firm behind my back and I realized that I was no longer falling. I felt…not pain, but something that probably would have been pain if not for the thin IV line that was dripping a clear fluid into my right arm. There were more tubes—oxygen tubes—snaking over my ears, across my face, and under my nose.

A person was slouched in a chair beside my bed, asleep—a man I hadn't seen in years.

"Father?" I croaked.

My voice was such a weak warble I would have been surprised if he'd have heard it even if he was awake. Even so, he stirred, rubbed at his eyes and groggily replied, "Ryou?"

"Father, what are you—"

"Don't talk, son," he said. "You had us all very worried."

"Oh. I—I'm sorry." _It must have been serious if he flew all the way here from Egypt, _I thought.

"Don't be sorry; I'm just glad to see you awake," he answered. He stood up and added, "I've got to let the nurse know you're awake. I'll be back in just a minute."

As soon as my father was out of the room, the spirit decided to put his own two cents in.

"Well what do you know," sneered the voice in the back of my mind. "I suppose you're not as pathetic as I thought after all." A pause then: "Welcome back to hell, landlord."

I sighed. _I wouldn't have it any other way._

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Oh my goodness—did I actually finish a story? What is this world coming to? I hope you all enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I may or may not be writing another Yu-gi-oh! story in the near future. I've been tossing around some ideas for a Yami Bakura-centric piece for a while now, so we'll see how that goes.

Thanks to millenniumthief and Ryou VeRua for your kind reviews—hope the ending was satisfactory!


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